Breaking Even (Sterling Shore 5)

“No one. It’s a habit to say we because I’ve usually got a few other guys doing the grunt work. My bad. Any reason why this damn Camry is so important?”

“It’s not the car I’m worried about; it’s the driver. The rest of the parts should get here early tomorrow morning.”

He rises up and tilts his head. “Damn. You must have spent a fortune on shipping to get everything here this fast.”

I refuse to talk about this. I could have bought her a new car for all the shit I’ve had to replace and have shipped overnight. Not to mention the tires. I got her some of the best. And I replaced her hubcaps with actual wheels.

She wouldn’t have let me buy her a new car, and she’d flip the hell out if she knew what I’ve spent. Most people would probably get the wrong idea, since I barely know her. But I have the extra cash, and she needs to be driving around in something safe.

“Come get me if you find anything else wrong with it. I need to get back upstairs.”

Wrench nods as I head up to tell the fiery little girl her briefcase must be somewhere else. When I walk into my office, she’s sitting on top of my desk with her legs crossed, and an unbidden fantasy rocks through my mind.

I really shouldn’t be picturing her leaned back as I pound into her. But all I can think about is her clawing at my back while I make her scream my name.

I blame her. It’s all because of her straddling me last night. My mind hasn’t been right since then. I keep picturing her under me, over me, against the wall... It’s a long damn list.

It’s probably because she made me have fun with very little beer, too much food, and a movie. In fact, it was one of the best times I’ve had in so damn long, and that makes me sound pathetic. But my mind never wandered off to things I want to forget, just like it never does when I’m with her.

I’ve gone to resorts for weekend getaways with girls that most men would cut off their left nut just to touch—girls who wear the sexiest, most expensive lingerie and look better than the models who strut on the runway. And yet I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than get her back in her pink boxers and smurf shirt while we lounge on her uncomfortable couch.

Brainy smurf. It wasn’t even Smurfette.

When Maggie came in, I almost gave her a hug to thank her. Brin had been on top of me, her thighs parted as she put herself right on top of my hard-as-a-rock dick. Neither of us mentioned what she had to be feeling, and every time she rocked forward, trying to put that damn cheesecake in my mouth, my cock tried to spring free from my jeans.

I ate the damn bite, hoping that would get her off me before I exploded in my jeans like an unpracticed virgin. I can’t remember the last time that something so small left me so damn twisted up.

“No briefcase,” I murmur at last, shifting uncomfortably when my damn cock starts to press against my zipper.

She shrugs, looking bored as she slowly gets off my desk. I bite back a groan when the shorts she is wearing slide up as she slides down. What the fuck is going on?

“It must be in my room then.”

She starts walking toward me, and I walk around, trying to keep my body angled away from her. I lower myself to the chair, happy to have my hard-on hidden—

“What the hell?” I yelp as I crash to the floor.

My decimated chair lies in shambles around me as I groan and try to get up. But the hellacious laughter rings out as I peek up from beside the desk to see the face of my enemy.

She uncurls her hand to reveal all my chair’s screws, and she giggles loudly while bringing them over to the desk and putting them down.

“That’s for leaving my mouth red and for making me beg last night,” she gloats.

A throat clearing from behind her startles her into a squeal. A very amused Wrench stands in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, and doing all he can to restrain the insuppressible grin on his face.

“Beg for cheesecake,” she adds quickly, horrified. “And it was food dye. That’s why my mouth was red.”

Her cheeks turn a harsh pink, and I laugh while climbing back up to my feet. Wrench hides his grin with his hand as his body shakes with repressed laughter.

Brin’s face turns all the redder, and she rocks back and forth on her heels and toes, looking longingly toward the exit.

“I uh... I... I’m just going to go... die now,” she says before darting out the door, hiding her face all the way out.

I just laugh harder as Wrench stares expectantly at me, lowering his hand from his mouth to reveal his shit-eating grin.

“The Camry owner, I presume,” he says with thick condescension.

“Yeah. My neighbor.”